


five times geralt couldn't bring himself to reject jaskier (and one time he did)

by whichlights



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Episode 06, First Kiss, First Meetings, Five Plus One, Holding Hands, M/M, Pining, Semi-Canon Compliant, its canon compliant if you ignore the gay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22343419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichlights/pseuds/whichlights
Summary: Maybe, just possibly, it had something to do with the smile.There was no maybe involved with the fact that Geralt did not like that idea at all.-5 times geralt didn't say no to jaskier and 1 time hereallysaid no to jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 25
Kudos: 405





	five times geralt couldn't bring himself to reject jaskier (and one time he did)

i.

The bard- Jaskier, Geralt reminded himself, his name was Jaskier -would not leave him alone after the elves. The walk back to town was a painfully long one, and Jaskier cannot stop himself from tweaking the lyrics of his newest song on the way there. 

“What do you think of this chord,” Jaskier asked, not looking at Geralt. He strummed a tune on the lute. Geralt winced. “Flat,” he grumbled.

“Oh, minor tuning issue,” Jaskier said brightly, and started tuning the lute. Geralt’s ears might as well have been bleeding by the time he’s done. “How about now?”

He tried again, and it’s a surprisingly pretty sound. “It’s fine.”

“How about this-”

“I am not a bard, bard.”

“Well, it is a song about you. You’re my muse now, I think.” Jaskier smiled brightly- did he ever stop smiling? Ever stop bouncing around, humming, talking? Based on their interactions over the past few hours, Geralt thought signs point to no. 

Geralt just huffed and turned his attention back to the road. He just wanted this day to be over, and this bard to leave him alone. 

The day did not end anytime soon, and the bard is not gone soon either. Jaskier kept walking with him, even as he avoided the town that paid him to take out their “devil” earlier. Geralt frowned a little at this, but Jaskier paid no mind, continuing to prattle on about this and that.

“Why are you still here?” Geralt asked, finally. “You got your song.”

Jaskier smiled at him. Dammit, Geralt had never met anyone who smiles so much in his entire life. “But if I stay with you, I’ll get  _ more  _ songs. I’ll have an excuse to travel and perform  _ this  _ one. And the entire point is to improve your image- don’t you think it would help more if I was there?”

Geralt glared at him. It’s a glare that would send most humans running, or at least make them quake a little. Jaskier didn’t even blink. “So? What do you say? I can travel with you, White Wolf?”

Geralt looked him over. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Jaskier ran after him as he made Roach go into a canter. “Wait, wait, slow down, we’re not done discussing!”

Geralt took pity and slowed down. “It’s not a discussion.”

Jaskier huffed. “Well. It just so happens that I’m going that way, too.” Jaskier pointed to where Geralt was riding off. 

“I’m going east, not south.”

“Ah, my mistake, I’m so terribly directionally inclined. I’m  _ also  _ going east. And the roads are dangerous for a lone bard, with only a lute to protect himself from monsters and bandits, not a town in sight,” Jaskier said, pointedly ignoring the distant but still visible puffs of chimney smoke from the town behind them. “Won’t you let me travel with you? For my safety, of course.”

Geralt sighed. “Fine. You can come with me.”

Jaskier utterly failed to keep the self congratulatory smile off his face. “Oh, and, well, if there do happen to be any monsters, I think it would be best if I stayed near you, so another one doesn’t catch me unawares. Not to watch, of course.”

Geralt is going to regret this within a week.

ii.

The bard- Jaskier, he has a name, it’s Jaskier -was quickly becoming a more… permanent is not the right word. But he was certainly becoming a more  _ constant  _ fixture in Geralt’s life. He would disappear for months or weeks at a time, and then seem to stay twice as long. Sometimes the other way around. Whatever the case, he kept coming back to Geralt. 

Geralt was becoming increasingly annoyed by the fact that he was not annoyed when Jaskier returned. Jaskier interpreted it as annoyance at him, and Geralt let him, because maybe he’d stay away this time. He never fucking did. 

Jaskier stuck around, and he rattled on forever, talking and playing. He was not talking or playing on this walk, though. His lute was safely tucked away, and he had Geralt’s blanket, which he believed to be a spare, pulled up over his head in an attempt to hide from the rain. It didn’t seem to be working, exactly. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined. “Why am I walking in the mud?”

“Because you wanted to accompany me on my adventures,” Geralt said briskly. Jaskier did look rather miserable, and drenched. 

“You’re riding a horse.”

“Her name is Roach. And you do not get to ride on Roach.”

“ _ Geralt _ ,” Jaskier whined even more. “There’s water on the inside of my shoes. I’m going to catch a cold or worse, and die.”

“You are not going to die. You have the blanket.”

“ _ The _ \- hold on. Is that why you’re not using one of these handy dandy things?” Jaskier immediately tried to give it back. “Why! Did you give this to me! If you only have the one! Why do you only have one!”

“I don’t get cold easily.” Geralt shrugged. “Keep it.”

“I didn’t ask for it, you gave it to me, and now I’m giving it back.”

“No. Then you’ll really catch a cold.”

Jaskier kept trying to shove the blanket into Geralt’s arms, stubbornly waving his finger when Geralt kept trying to refuse. “Ah! No. You gave it to me, so it’s mine now, and I’ve decided I’m going to give my blanket to you.”

“Why are you doing this,” Geralt sighed. 

“Because you look miserable and wet up there.  _ You’re  _ going to catch a cold.”

“I can’t catch a cold, Jaskier,” Geralt growled. He ripped the blanket from his arms, and then dropped it back on Jaskier’s head. Jaskier floundered around, trying to shove it off of his face without dropping it in the mud. 

“Okay, compromise,” Jaskier finally said once he’d freed his head from the scratchy cotton. “If I also ride Roach, we can hold it over both of us.”

“You don’t get to ride Roach.”

“Well, then I don’t want the blanket.” Jaskier crossed his arms and folded the blanket under one arm. “Unless you let me ride Roach with you.”

Geralt glared at him for a while before grabbing him by the collar. Jaskier gave a small startled yelp as Geralt dragged him up and set him behind him on Roach. She started prancing uneasily, and he sighed. “Easy, girl, it’s okay.”

Geralt realized with surprise that the rain had stopped, and he looked up. The blanket was being held over his head by a pair of skinny arms clad in brightly covered cloth. He looked back at Jaskier. 

“I meant it,” he said. He smiled brightly, for the first time since the rain had started. “Now come on, I want to try to get to a town and not have to sleep in this with this soaked thing.”

Geralt urged Roach forward, and they continued. 

iii.

Bards were so annoying, even and especially when they were named Jaskier.

“It is one night of bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world,” Jaskier had said. “How hard could it be,” Jaskier had said. “I would appreciate it a lot,” Jaskier had said. 

It was the third thing that had made Geralt finally cave, and then he was standing in a Cintran throne room, uncomfortable and regretting his decision. Except, aggravatingly, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it completely. 

Because it had made Jaskier smile, that bright smile, that honest, stupid, sunflower, sunshine smile. 

Maybe he  _ was _ becoming a more constant figure in Geralt’s life. Maybe he  _ hadn’t _ been exaggerating when he said he was Geralt’s very best friend, if only because, by virtue of being the only one, he won by default. Maybe Geralt was having a harder and harder time trying to tell him no, because.

Maybe. 

Maybe, just possibly, it had something to do with the smile. 

There was no maybe involved with the fact that Geralt did not like that idea at all. 

Jaskier seemed to eventually forgive him for the “telling some random nobleman that he was an eunuch” thing, because on the way back from the ball, he was still prattling on about the dancing, and the wine, and the shock and the drama and the romance, and he was going to make this his most magical, romantic ballad yet, and he might even add Geralt in as a more important part, to boost his image more and add to the  _ epicness _ , as the Witcher fought to protect the lovers, and Geralt, are you not listening to me, you’re staring blankly at my face-

Geralt shook his head and tried to zone back in. That was unexpected. That was dangerous. He’d gotten distracted, he’d zoned out, and in his line of work, that could have gotten him killed. Hell, if it had happened earlier tonight, he could have gotten killed. He gave a grunt, and Jaskier eventually just kept talking. 

Geralt forced himself to keep his focus on the sounds around him, the smells around him, the sights around him that were not Jaskier’s smile. 

“We should do this more often,” Jaskier said. “Go to nice, fun, fancy things. Especially if all of the upper class is this dramatic. I won’t make you forego your armor next time.”

“There is no next time,” Geralt grumbled. 

“You say that now,” Jaskier said in a sing-song, and Geralt forced himself to focus on the sound of his own slow, steady heartbeat.

iv.

“Geralt, it’s dark, and I can’t see,” Jaskier whined. 

Geralt looked back at him, annoyed. “You’re the one who wanted to come. You, in your own words, wanted to  _ watch  _ me kill a monster.”

“How was I supposed to know it would be so cloudy it would cover up all the heroism?”

“I don’t know, the goddamn sky?” 

“I thought it would have cleared up by now! Whatever the case, it’s dark, I can’t see, and I keep running into trees. Help me out here.”

“I am not lighting a torch. For starters, I don’t have one-”

“You don’t have to light a torch!” Jaskier threw his hands up in exasperation. “Just- I don’t know, can I hold your arm or something?”

Geralt knew he can’t see any deadpan glare he might give him, so he doesn’t bother. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yes, hunting, but-”

“You cannot, under any circumstance, be clinging to me while I’m trying to fight.”

“I would never impede you like that! What do you take me for! I will hide in the bushes the  _ second  _ it is dangerous!”

Geralt sighed, and held out his arm. Jaskier didn’t move, and Geralt remembered he  _ really  _ couldn’t see right now, so he grabbed Jaskier’s shoulder on his own. 

For a brief moment, Geralt forgot Jaskier’s smile, for all the warmth it brings him, is not a light source, and that Jaskier could not simply sunshine smile his way through a dark woods. Jaskier did not cling to his arm, but grabbed onto his hand. “You are, truly, not only a friend to humanity, but an utter  _ champion  _ to bards.”

Jaskier’s hand was warm, and slightly sweaty. It wasn’t from fear- Geralt couldn’t smell any tell tale signs of fear on him, his breathing was even, and his eyes were normal, though expanded to try to let in more light. His grip on Geralt’s hand was firm, but relaxed. Geralt felt his pulse, steady, near Jaskier’s wrist as he held his hand. Trust did not have a smell, but it did have a body language, and Jaskier was full of it. Geralt tried not to let it go to his head, or to the pit of his stomach that sometimes worried if he was in the right, if maybe Jaskier’s trust was in vain, if he didn’t  _ deserve  _ Jaskier’s trust.

“I’m not getting any more lyrics standing in the dark,” Jaskier said.

Geralt gave a huff, and guided Jaskier through the woods until he heard the cracking of branches that meant his quarry was approaching. He hurriedly let go and deposited Jaskier in the nearest bush, and he tried so hard not to focus on the fact that he wanted to keep holding Jaskier’s hand. 

v.

It was a good day. A day where the monster hunt hadn’t left him too bloody, where he was paid well, where his reception was lukewarm (which was the equivalent of a parade for a Witcher), he had a warm bath, and he was in a warm inn for the night. 

There had only been one room available for both him and Jaskier, but it had two beds. Geralt didn’t mind sharing. They’d slept closer together countless times while camping on the road when there were mysteriously no rooms for a Witcher, or simply no town. Jaskier was talking, and Geralt allowed himself to watch and not listen. 

Jaskier was definitely aware that Geralt wasn’t paying attention, because he’d tried and failed to get his attention earlier, so now he just talked. Geralt watched the way he talked with his whole body, his arms flailing, and how his face made exaggerated expressions that primarily focused on his smile. The smile he made when he was happy. 

Geralt sharpened his sword and not-listened to Jaskier talk about everything and nothing and things he didn’t know until he eventually decided he was tired, and he wanted to sleep. He zoned back in to what Jaskier was saying, to tell him thank you for the background noise, now shut up, it was bed time. 

“-I just want to kiss you, you know. Yeah, you don’t know. You’re not even listening.” Jaskier snorted, smiling. 

Geralt blinked. He obviously wasn’t able to keep the shock from his face, because Jaskier’s face fell from a smile to panic. “Oh, don’t tell me you were listening the  _ whole time _ .”

“I wasn’t,” Geralt said. “Just that bit at the end.”

Jaskier buried his face in his hands. “Oh, this is embarrassing. Nope, nevermind, ignore me. Sorry.”

“Say it again,” Geralt said, putting his sword away under his pillow. 

Jaskier’s ears were red, as well as his entire face. “I, uh. If this is a joke, I don’t appreciate it.”

“I would never. Say it again.”

Jaskier let out a huff and crossed his arms. “I want to kiss you.”

“Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask if you can kiss me.”

“Why?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “If this is an  _ especially  _ cruel joke, I will besmirch your honor for… for forever!”

Geralt stood up. “I seem to have developed a complete inability to say no to your inane requests. Ask.”

Jaskier gulped. Geralt tilted his head. “Geralt,” his bard whispered. “Would you do me the honor of letting me kiss you?”

“Yes.” 

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and threw himself into him. Geralt, on instinct, wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, and pulled him closer. Jaskier made a noise, and it took Geralt’s brain a second to realize it was a laugh, breathed between the breaks of Jaskier kissing him. A laugh, of all things. 

Jaskier pulled away first, and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, laughing still. A laugh. A laugh, a laugh, a laugh. Of course, Geralt had heard Jaskier laugh of course. Of course, sometimes he caused it, of course. But there was something about how, of course, Jaskier laughed when he kissed, of course, that caught Geralt’s breath in a way he tried very hard not to like, of course, Jaskier was smiling, of course.

He was smiling, and Geralt heard a little voice in the back of his head go  _ oh no _ . 

Jaskier leaned in for another kiss, laughing all the while. 

\+ i. 

Geralt is alone on a mountain.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There is a dragon in a cave, guarding her egg, just a few hundred feet away, and a dragon who pretended to be a man walking back down the path. Yennefer is far enough down the path that he considers her gone already. 

Jaskier is still there. 

He starts to say something. Geralt doesn’t truly process what it is. But he’s not in the mood, not in the mood for that bright, happy voice that tries to make everything okay again, because everything is  _ not  _ okay.

“Dammit, Jaskier,” he growls, turning on his bard. No, his companion. No, his friend. No, his- “Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you who’s shoveling it?”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Jaskier says softly, and no, it isn’t, but neither is fucking life. 

“The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it!” Jaskier, by virtue of being a constant, had found himself entrenched in all of it. “If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take  _ you  _ off my hands.”

Jaskier is not smiling. He looks shocked, and hurt, and Geralt hates that he feels that, and he doesn’t want Jaskier to experience any other emotion again. He doesn’t want to feel any other emotion again. 

He turns away again. There is silence for a moment. Geralt remembers Jaskier asking him to go away with him to the coast, to do… not Witcher stuff, he assumed. He was pretty sure this was a definitive  _ no  _ to that fantasy. Usually, he gave in when Jaskier pestered, and begged, and wouldn’t let up until he got what he wanted. He expected Jaskier to argue, maybe. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood for an argument, but he’d started one. 

Jaskier just accepts it with a soft, uncharacteristically soft, voice. He says  _ see you around, Geralt _ , and Geralt keeps himself from snarling something else he already regrets. He listens to the footsteps fade, smells the scent of others grow stale. 

He throws a rock.  _ Now  _ Geralt is alone on a mountain. 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is witchlightsands, i'm not technically done with the series but you know sometimes you just get overwhelmed by the "oh my GOD the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one" dynamic of it all


End file.
